


a melody soaring softly through my atmosphere

by forcynics



Series: holiday fic 2011 [10]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forcynics/pseuds/forcynics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dance with me, Elena.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	a melody soaring softly through my atmosphere

“Do we have a deal?” she asks him when they’ve found each other at the edge of the Lockwoods’ ballroom. 

Her eyebrows are raised imploringly, and she poses the question as if they haven’t made other deals that all came to nothing, as if they don’t both know this deal will probably fall apart just as gloriously as its predecessors. The shifting light of the sparkling chandeliers catches the determined angles of her face for an instant, and Elijah comes close to smiling.

“On one more condition,” he tells her, but it is already an agreement, because there is no question that they will agree, that they will trust each other again simply because neither of them can afford to do anything else. 

Elena’s mouth presses tight together, suspicious – if anyone has any right to slide so easily into suspicion, it is this girl – so he cuts away any suspense, and simply extends a hand to her. 

“Dance with me, Elena.”

She blinks at him, shock wearing out over suspicion for one – brief – moment. “Wha—” She cuts herself off mid-word, switches to “Why?”

He shrugs one shoulder as casually as he can manage, doesn’t pull his hand back. _Because you will never stop being familiar to me_ , he thinks. Because a dance with Elena Gilbert will take him back in time more than anything else, because he is feeling old and seeing that face makes him want to feel young again – _and_ you, _you are so unbearably young, my dear Elena._

But he only lifts an eyebrow, a delayed reflection of her, and says quietly, calmly – “Asking questions is not a part of the deal.” Because he and Elena will always exist in negotiations, and this is no different (he tells himself).

There’s a sharp peal of laughter from the center of the room; if Elijah shifts his attention through his surroundings he can hear the bubbles foaming from a bottle of champagne just opened, the clink of silverware from the kitchens, the swish of silk dresses against hardwood floors... the heartbeat of the dopplegangr girl standing in front of him, the shaky rasp of the air she draws down her throat.

Elena’s fingers curl lightly over his own.

The touch is the lightest form of relief, it settles a heaviness inside him, and though Elijah has long forgotten how it feels to inhale oxygen for natural necessity, to _breathe_ , he thinks this is strangely reminiscent.


End file.
